I've never learned to drive. Two lessons with Maureen Birtles’ School of Motoring – a wool shop that had diversified into providing driving lessons (or was it the other way round?) – was enough to convince me that I am not cut out to be behind the wheel. Well, that and the traumatic childhood memory of a nasty bump in a dodgem car in Bridlington.

So most of the time I walk, often hauling cake tins in a well-travelled bag-for-life. I've been known to make a Twitter follower's day when they've spotted me, on foot with bakes in transit. #lifemade

When the stakes are high and the cakes are higher (a five-tier wedding cake, for example), we hire a car. Peter drives, of course, and I, ahem… navigate. Did I mention that I struggle with left and right?

The recent reshoot of seven bakes for the cover of my upcoming book, called for a taxi. En route my raspberry and rhubarb roulade got smacked by a wooden pizza board. The photographer and I attempted to revive it like a small animal on the road. It survived long enough to make it the back cover. When the book's published, you'll be able to decide if those strategically placed raspberries are fooling anyone.

But my favourite mode of transport by far is the train. I can track my baking journey by rail - from the complex birthday cakes of my nieces (apologies to Lola for the sugar pavilion that didn't quite endure Sheffield to Brighton) to cross country auditions for the Bake Off. And last month, I ferried nearly 200 gluten-free biscuits by train to Harrogate for a demo at the Cake and Bake Show. On the return journey, I was recognised by another Twitter follower and handed out the leftover biscuits. Next time you travel, just check who's pushing the buffet trolley.